Saving DX
by Lucy Grayson
Summary: A fanatic decides she has to 'save' DX from themselves. One-shot. WARNING: This fic is very dark and not for the faint-hearted or easily disturbed! Full summary and warning inside.


**A/N: So, this is a little one-shot that popped into my head during a dream and wouldn't go away, so I figured I'd write it. It's about what would happen if an obsessive fan of the original DX decided that they had to 'save' Shawn Michaels and HHH from themselves. I've never written a horror fic before, so I dunno how well this is gonna go, let me know what you think.**

**WARNING: This is going to get pretty dark and pretty graphic. If you are easily offended or disturbed, please do not read this. I have no control of my imagination so if you read this and it upsets you, don't send me messages complaining, because you have been duly warned.**

**Disclaimer: I do not own the WWE or any of the superstars. No copyright infringement is intended.**

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Darkness, that was the first awareness. It was really dark. Pain was the next. His right leg felt like it was on fire. He didn't know where he was, he was completely disorientated. The last thing he remembered was getting into Paul's car to go to the hotel…then nothing. The world had just stopped, until he woke up here. Where exactly was _here?_ He forced his eyes open, trying to ignore the pain in his leg. Slats of bright moonlight cut across the space, it was large and the smell indicated straw or animals, there was also the faint smell of gasoline. A barn? Maybe. It was difficult to tell.

He squinted into the darkness and slowly his eyes began to adjust. He let out a cry of surprise and fear as he saw what was very clearly a human form, lying on the floor a few feet from him. A knot of dread formed in his chest, but he forced himself to move. He dragged himself over, his leg screaming in protest. His breath came in gasps. At this point, he was more shocked than scared. Unable to figure out what was going on. He reached the body and let out a slight whimper as he realised it was Paul. He was lying on his side, his back to Michael.

Slowly, his hand shaking, Michael reached out and grasped the larger man's shoulder. "Paul…Paul." Nothing. He tugged, pulling Paul over onto his back, then his breath caught in his throat, bile rising and his whole body going rigid with shock, clamping down on the scream that wanted to rush out of him. Oh god. Oh god. He stared into the face of his friend. His long hair was caked in drying blood, a spectacular hole was present in the side of his head, where something pointed had been driven into his brain. This action had been repeated over his chest and abdomen. His eyes were open, but only the whites were visible and his mouth was slightly open, blood drying on his lips.

"Paul! Paul! Oh god…oh god…Paul…Paul…P…" Michael felt himself shaking from the top of his head to the tips of his toes. Fear clamped down on his heart and he skittered back, away from the mauled and mangled body of his friend. This had to be a dream. Some kind of horrible nightmare. He felt his back hit a wooden post and stopped. His eyes were still fixed on Paul and he couldn't tear them away. He wanted to, but he couldn't. It couldn't be real.

He tried to stand up, only to let out a scream of pain and fall back down. He looked down at his leg, manoeuvring himself so that it fell into one of the few pools of light. He lifted up his pant leg and felt his body heave, trying to vomit. His leg was very clearly broken. The skin of his calf was split and from it protruded the white of his bone. He quickly shoved the pant leg back down, not wanting to look at that anymore.

This had to be a nightmare. This couldn't be real. It wasn't possible. Why would someone do this? He started praying, asking for help, begging his Lord to save him, to make this all become nothing, to make it not be real. He gasped as the barn doors suddenly opened, his eyes widened as he saw the person entering. Fear rooted him in place.

She was tall, at least six feet without the high heeled court shoes she was wearing. She was extraordinarily beautiful, with long raven hair that fell about a finely shaped face. Her skin shone almost silver in the moonlight. Her full lips were painted blood red. She was wearing a DX t-shirt, cut to fit her curvaceous form perfectly and a very short, black skirt, which brushed the tops of her thighs, exposing the tops of her stockings, which encased impossibly long legs. Her heels clicked along the concrete floor as she walked towards Michael with deliberately slow steps.

Michael's eyes were fixed on the silver ice pick she was holding in her left hand, the tip of it was scarlet with dried blood. Her hands were gloved with black satin up to her elbows. Michael couldn't catch his breath, his heart was pounding at an unnaturally fast rhythm and he was sure he was headed to a heart attack. He wanted to speak, to find the words that would end this and make it stop, but he couldn't. He couldn't even think. What was going on? Why had she done this? Who was she?

A slow, terrifying smile grew across her beautiful lips and she stopped walking towards him, which he was extremely grateful for. She turned her head, slowly, deliberately to the side, looking at Paul's mutilated body. She suddenly looked very sad and let out a long, pained sigh, before turning her gaze back to Michael. "It's such a shame." Her voice was like honey, sweet and sickly. Michael was confused and terrified.

She stepped towards him again and he jerked backwards as if receiving an electric shock. She stopped and frowned a little, moving the ice pick to tap it against the palm of her right hand. "Shawn, don't be afraid. I'm _saving _you." Michael stared at her in shock.

"What?! S…Saving?! How is this saving?!" His voice was a little higher pitched than usual from the stress of the situation. This woman was insane. She had to be. She shook her head, her hair swinging gracefully around her head. "I love DX. I watched you when I was just a child and I _loved _you. I swore that I would protect you. I would always be there. I followed you, from town to town, even when you weren't together." She spoke now in a dreamy tone. Michael's eyes widened. He wasn't sure what to make of this. All he knew was that she was crazy and he was probably going to die. He wanted to speak. He tried to force the words out, but they wouldn't come. Nothing came out. He just opened and closed his mouth mutely. She spoke again. "When you came back…you'd become a joke. A _bad _joke. You were both weak. Old. Pathetic. You weren't the DX that I loved. You had betrayed yourselves and me. I knew. I knew what I had to do. I had to save you from yourselves."

"P-please. Please listen to me…"

"Don't be scared. You will be remembered as a legend, a hero. People will speak your name with reverence."

"No…no, please…" Michael didn't care that he was reduced to begging. She didn't listen. She walked towards him again, raising the ice pick. He dragged himself to his feet, ignoring the pain in his broken leg and tried to run away. He got only a few feet when he let out a scream of pain as his back exploded in fire. She'd thrown the pick and it was now embedded in his spine. He crumbled, the feeling instantly disappearing from his legs. He whimpered as he heard her approach. He was powerless. The pick had penetrated his spinal column, paralyzing him from the waist down.

He gasped as he felt her pull the pick out of his back. She placed her foot against his side and kicked him over onto his back. He stared up at her, horrified. He'd never been so scared in his life. He began praying again, his hands grasping for the cross that was ever-present around his neck, but it was gone. His eyes flashed open and he saw, wrapped around her left wrist, a glittering chain, his cross hanging from it.

His eyes met hers again. He couldn't make out the colour, they were just dark. So impossibly dark. "Please! Please!"

"Shh, shh, shh. Hush now. Hush. Time to sleep now."

"No! No, please!" He saw the flash of silver and then the night was penetrated by a blood curdling scream, which ended on a gurgle. Michael saw, heard and felt no more as the blood drained from his body. The woman, smiled happily, then turned and left the barn, only pausing to pull the ice pick from Michael's throat before she went.


End file.
